


Hot buttered rum

by ArielAquarial



Series: Family of Three [29]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kid Claire Novak, Kid Jack Kline, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielAquarial/pseuds/ArielAquarial
Summary: Looking at the wrapped presents placed carefully under the tree and the only slightly smaller pile of presents that still needed to be taken care of, Dean could admit they might have gone a little too far this year. It wasn't like the kids didn't deserve it, though. They had been angels all year and Dean couldn’t bring himself to regret buying so many gifts. What he did regret, was deciding to wrap them all on Christmas eve.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Family of Three [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1127873
Comments: 25
Kudos: 106





	Hot buttered rum

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some Christmas fluff to brighten your day!

To Dean, Cas was the sexiest man alive. His piercing blue eyes, his plush lips, and his sultry gaze all added up to an absolute knockout of a man, and that wasn’t even including his body. Dean’s own figure was getting, admittedly, a little soft. His pudge was becoming a bit more pronounced, and sometimes he could feel his thighs jiggle as he walked. Cas, on the other hand, was a fucking machine. His stomach was flat, his arms were defined, and his thighs were thick and muscular from his almost-daily bike commute to work.

But Dean’s favorite thing, the one that took him from zero to sixty in a second flat, was that goddamned unimpressed eyebrow quirk he always did. In the right circumstance, a single twitch of that brow could get Dean running to the bedroom, stripping as he went. Other times, it conveyed Cas’s silent disappointment.

This was one such time.

Dean held the sloppily wrapped present in front of himself like an offering to a god… a god who was looking at him like him like he was an absolute idiot. Cas’s reaction did nothing more than make Dean bite his lip in an attempt to stop laughing. They continued their stare-off for half a minute more before Cas let out a long-suffering sigh. “Dean…”

His smile widened. “See? I told you so.”

“You’ve proved nothing. Give that to me.”

Dean did as Cas asked, angling the back side—that was even worse than the front—away from his husband. “You said I couldn’t wrap the round one, and I did! It's wrapped!”

Cas rotated the present, examining it closely. The whole thing was a mess of crinkled paper, sloppily wrapped around a sturdy Pokeball that he just knew Claire would love. Sure, he probably should have just put the damn thing in a bag as Cas suggested, but Dean had insisted he could do it. Technically, he did.

Cas put it down and crossed his arms. “When you said you’d do it, I thought you’d at least try to do a nice job.”

Dean pouted and snatched it back up. “I did try.”

“I watched you, Dean. You put it in the middle and just crinkled the paper around it.”

“You’re a Mr. Grumpy Pants today, aren’t ya? Listen… I’ll make you another drink and turn that frown upside down. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Am I sensing some hostility? Come on, don’t be a Grinch.”

Cas couldn’t help his huff of laughter. “Fine. Put it in the pile, but I’m going to put your name on it.”

Dean tossed it in a high arch, landing it perfectly in the pile of wrapped presents. “Swish!”

“Don’t break it before Claire gets a chance to open it.”

He waved behind himself as he got up and started toward the kitchen. “It’ll be fine. Now, let's get this party started…”

“The party started an hour ago.” Cas waved his empty mug in front of himself. “But please, don’t stop on my account.”

Cas and Dean weren’t heavy drinkers, but they did have a small stash of their favorite liquors on the top shelf of the pantry. Dean pushed around the hard ciders and simple syrups to reveal their collection of fancy whisky and rum. “Did you want another buttered rum, or should I spice up one of those hot chocolates? I think there’s still some vanilla vodka in here somewhere…”

“Hot buttered rum, please.”

Inside the cover of the pantry, he pumped his fist in celebration and grabbed the Solera. “I told you you’d like it.”

“Yes, and we both know you’re always right.”

“Damn right, I am. I’d never steer you wrong.”

“Well, pardon me for being a little dubious about any drink that involves butter.”

Dean added a spoonful of the butter and brown sugar mixture into the bottom of their glasses then poured some hot water from the electric kettle. Finishing it off with a few ounces of rum and a bit of vanilla, they were ready to go. “Yeah, and it’s amazing. This isn’t like the time Sam convinced you to try your coffee with butter in it. Who the fuck does that? Psychos, that’s who.”

Cups in hand, Dean made his way back to Cas, who was pressing corners into the wrapping paper as he took care of Jack’s playdough kit. Once the paper was taped into place and Cas gave it a tag, he took his mug and took a deep drink. Dean, who didn’t have the same tolerance Cas had for hot drinks, had to blow on his for a few moments.

“Oh, god… that hits the spot.” He set his mug down and grabbed the boardgames. “Were we addressing this one to ‘the family’?”

“If we don’t, Claire will try and put it in her toybox.”

“The family it is, then.” He took another sip and got to work on wrapping it as neatly as possible. Dean would know on sight which presents he wrapped. They weren’t as neat, the edges not as crisp, but Cas didn’t care unless it was truly bad, and neither would the kids.

Looking at the wrapped presents placed carefully under the tree and the only slightly smaller pile of presents that still needed to be taken care of, Dean could admit they might have gone a little too far this year. It wasn't like the kids didn't deserve it, though. They had been angels all year and Dean couldn’t bring himself to regret buying so many gifts. What he did regret, was deciding to wrap them all on Christmas eve.

Dean grabbed a few more drinks for them and attempted to get the job done, but they ended up talking more than wrapping. By the time they were on their last few items, they had somehow gone through another round of buttered rum (that Dean had added a few extra ounces of rum to), and two spiked hot chocolates.

His head felt heavy as he picked up the last present, his vision swimming just enough that he had to squint in order to read the writing. “King Bidgood’s in the Bathtub? Sounds kinky.”

Cas giggled into what was left of his bottle. “It’s a kid's book, Dean. Calm down.”

“Sounds like a guide to bathtub sex.”

“Dean!” he snorted into his hand, nearly toppling over into the pile of presents. “Stop!”

“Speaking of bathtub sex…”

“No. It’s already eleven o’clock…we have to go to bed.”

“Don’t be an old man. Why don’t we get these presents under the tree and watch a movie? Let’s watch Die Hard!”

“That’s not a—”

Dean, knowing exactly what he was going to say, rushed to climb into Cas’s lap and slap a hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Cas licked his palm and Dean jerked his hand away. “But it’s not a—”

Once again, Dean put his hand over Cas’s mouth. Instead of licking his hand again, Cas cocked his eyebrow and grunted in annoyance.

Dean shuddered at the sight. “Fuck yeah, keep looking at me like that.”

Cas’s tongue licked a fat line up his hand. “Gross, stop it!”

“Die Hard is a—"

He silenced his husband with a kiss and Cas was just drunk enough to go with it. He tasted like the hot cocoa he had just finished, and that only egged Dean on. They stumbled to the couch and collapsed onto it, Cas grunting as Dean’s full weight landed on him. He tried to lift himself so Cas could suck in a breath, but his knee slipped on the edge of the couch and he crashed to the floor. Dean laid there dazed for a moment, until his head stopped spinning (mostly) and he could hear his husband’s loud laughter.

“Ouch.”

“Oh, come on. Get up.” Cas pushed himself up and extended a helping hand. Dean took it grudgingly and let Cas hoist him back on the couch. “Let’s watch A Christmas Carol. I’m feeling nostalgic.”

“You always feel nostalgic when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, I’m just extra tipsy.”

Dean gave Cas’s stubbled cheek a light kiss. “Fine, we’ll watch A Christmas Carol, but it’s gotta be the old one.”

“Which old one?”

“I don’t know… the really old one.”

Cas shook his head and checked to see which version was on the DVR. He found a suitably old one in black and white and pressed play. They settled into the cushions and cuddled as the opening credits began to play. By the time the ghost of Jacob Marley was shaking his chains at Scrooge, Cas was fast asleep. Dean only made it a little longer. One second, the Ghost of Christmas Present was showing Scrooge the Cratchit family, and the next, bare feet were slapping on the hardwood floor and Claire’s excited screeching was scaring him out of his slumber. He jerked against Cas, waking the man just as abruptly.

Claire was suddenly in their face, while two-year-old Jack was already digging through the presents to get to the larger ones in the back. “Daddy! Deedee! Did you sleep out here? Did you see Santa?”

Dean sat up, leaving Cas to bury his face in the throw pillow. He felt pretty alright considering how much they drank last night. His stomach was only a little queasy and his head was only slightly spinning, thank God. Although if Claire kept yelling, he wouldn’t be fine for much longer. He took a second to stretch the kink out of his back and wipe the drool off his cheek. “Uh, no. You know Santa only comes when you’re asleep.”

“Dangit!” She huffed in annoyance and made a frustrated face. “I was trying to stay up, but I fell asleep. I didn’t even get to hear the bells…”

He pulled her into a hug. “Sorry, Claire Bear, maybe next year.”

“Yeah…” She let out a sigh. “Can we have breakfast so I can open my presents?”

Cas chuckled and finally struggled to his feet, immediately going to stop Jack from tearing into the presents. “I was thinking omelets. Sound good to you?”

“Extra cheese.”

“Of course. How about you, Jack? Omelets?”

“Exta teese!” he parroted, struggling in his father’s arms in an attempt to get back to the presents.

“Ok, two omelets with extra cheese coming up.”

Dean pouted. “What about me?”

Cas sighed. “Did you want extra cheese too?”

“Duh.”

“You’re lactose intolerant…”

“Only mildly!”

Cas shook his head and went to the kitchen to prep breakfast. Dean watched him go, eyeing the flex of his ass in the loose-fitting pajama pants until it was hidden behind the kitchen’s island.

Claire took his distraction for the opportunity it was and jumped onto Dean, latching onto his middle with her arms and legs, and pushing him over onto the couch. He yelped in surprise, laying there in shock as her seventy-pound frame landed on him. Jack piled on too, always ready to follow the lead of his big sister, his sharp elbows and knees digging into Dean’s muscles like the worst massage in the world.

“Help, Cas!” He yelled out, play-wrestling with the two children currently trying their hardest to pin him to the cushions.

“Should I cut up some of the leftover ham? Claire, do you want ham?”

“No thank you!” She yelled back, never breaking her focus as she climbed onto his chest and plopped down onto him. “Just cheese.”

“I want ham!” he yelled breathlessly, fighting to get Jack off his legs without sending him crashing off the couch. “Extra cheese, extra— Oof!”

“Hm…” Cas considered the dilemma, not caring at all that their children were kicking Dean’s ass. “I think I’ll save it for lunch tomorrow.”

“Cas!” he whined. “Come on! They’re teaming up on me…”

Cas continued shuffling around the kitchen, ignoring him. “Ok, fine. It looks like I’m on my own. I’ll have to fight dirty.”

Claire shrieked in anticipation. “No tickles!”

“Oh, yes tickles.”

“No!” She squirmed away, but Jack was blocking her exit and it was too late. With as much strength as he possessed, Dean forced himself to sit and aimed for her armpit. She screamed loud enough that the neighbors must have heard and started kicking, nearly getting him in the crotch. Dean felt little hands pull at his in an attempt to save Claire, and he took the opportunity to pull Jack in front and start the assault on him.

He could barely remember his mild hangover, or the big meal he had been stressing about the day before, which they needed to start soon. With both of his children squirming in his arms, and the soft glow of the Christmas tree, he could only think about all of the Christmases to come and how he couldn’t wait to spend them with his family.

**Author's Note:**

> I love to hear from you so leave a comment if you can!


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